All's Fair in Love and War
by WinButler
Summary: Germany and Italy like each other. That's obvious. It's telling each other that's the problem. So, instead, they both decide to pretend to date someone else, to make the other jealous. Who will crack first? Eventual Germany/Italy
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Very new to this fandom...nervous. Semi-AU, Semi-crackish. Eventual pairing obviously Germany/Italy. Other minor pairings involved.

Summary: Italy and Germany like each other. That much is obvious. Telling each other, however, proves to be more difficult than anticipated. Instead, they both start dating other people, in a desperate bid to make the other jealous. Who will crack first?

Chapter 1 – The Plan

Italy was asleep. Except he wasn't _actually, _he was lying in bed pretending. To be more specific, lying in Germany's bed. Of course, Germany's bed was much more comfortable than his, so he fully intended to take every opportunity possible to sleep in it.

Even Germany wouldn't be so cruel as to wake him up while he was _asleep, _right?

Germany scowled as he entered his bedroom and flicked the light on. He should have known this would happen. That damn Italy had fallen asleep in his bed, his comfortable, luxurious bed, three times so far this week. THREE! But who's counting?

"Feliciano. Get up. Go to your own room, _now._"

Italy, predictably, did not respond. Instead, he began to feign snoring.

"Fine. You'll pay for this tomorrow." Growled Germany, and climbed into the uncomfortably small bed with the smaller nation.

Italy was breathing heavily, his eyelids fluttering. _Ha. He's never getting rid of me now! _He was having to try very hard indeed not to giggle.

"Oh, Feliciano. You're so....damn cute." Whispered Germany, and brushed a feather light kiss to Italy's cheek.

_Wait. WHAT?_

_---------------------------------------_

"Did you sleep well, Germany?"

Germany merely grunted in acknowledgment of the bouncy young man who strolled into breakfast at 11 o clock.

"Just make sure you pass out in your _own _bed tonight, you little moron." He snapped at Italy.

Italy raised a slightly hurt eyebrow. "That's a little harsh."

German merely scowled in response. "Get on with it. We have training to do. And there's a meeting this afternoon."

"What wrong, Ludwig?"

"Nothing. I told you to hurry up."

"Are you mad at me?"

"Yes. You disrupted my sleep. You can be assured it will not be happening again."

Italy sorrowfully wandered out of the room. "That's not what you said last night....."

---------------------------------------

Training did not go well. Germany seemed even madder than before. Italy tried to remedy the situation by hugging it better, but unsurprisingly, this did not go down well. A very red Germany shoved Italy off him and into the nearest wheelbarrow.

Things did not improve at the world meeting. Germany wouldn't even meet his eyes. It was as if he refused to acknowledge his existence at all!

And Feliciano was not at all happy. What was going on? Was he embarrassed about what he had said the previous night? But if he thought Italy had been asleep....

Italy decided that he would not stand for this. There had to be some way to get Germany to like him again. He just didn't know what it was yet.

"I guess that concludes our meeting! See you all next week!" grinned a, for some unknown reason, stupidly happy America. "Oh, and don't forget our beach house trip next weekend! It's gonna be a hoot!"

England rolled his eyes. "Hoot. Who uses that word?"

America looked genuinely confused. "I do. I just did."

Prussia snorted with laughter, and Japan had that "facepalm" expression they all knew so well.

"Well. OK. Whatever. The beach trip's gonna be a riot!"

"Not better."

"Get out, all of you!"

The nations trailed out of the meeting room, except England, Japan, France, and Canada, who usually stayed behind to help America clear up. This week they were unexpectedly joined by an extremely unhappy looking Italy.

"Feliciano...what's wrong?" asked Japan in a concerned voice. "You don't look well at all."

Once he was sure everyone else was safely out of the room, Italy proceeded to spill to the other nations the events of the previous night.

"And...I don't know why he's so angry!"

France grinned. "Is it not obvious, _mon cheri_? He is embarrassed. He is trying to restore his wounded pride by ignoring you."

"But...I don't want him to ignore me! I want him to date me!"

England raised an eyebrow. "I can't see why. Who knows what sort of depraved things he's into?"

"But that doesn't matter! Please help! You guys must have some advice for me..."

France lit up. "Of course! I am an expert in romantic matters! Look no further for your advice, my dear Feliciano. I suggest you cover his entire house in rose petals, with a trail leading up to the bedroom, and when he enters it, he'll find you - "

"No!" Italy went red at the very thought. "Nothing dirty. I just want him to realise that I'm completely the one for him, and that he's being an idiot."

America shrugged. "Why don't you just tell him? That usually, works, in my experience."

Japan shook his head. "It won't work with a guy like Germany. It's not as if he's ever particularly open about his feelings. Why don't you write him a letter?"

"I dunno...what if he just keeps ignoring me? I don't want that to happen."

"Why don't you take him on a romantic gondola ride?" swooned Canada. "I would love something like that to happen to me...."

"Too ooey-gooey." Complained Italy. "I really don't think he'll go for it."

"Then I guess we're out of ideas, Italy-kun." Remarked Japan.

"Yeah...I guess so. Thanks for trying to help, you guys , it means a lot that - "

"Excuse me." A voice from the corner of the room interrupted. "I don't believe you've heard my suggestion yet."

"England? I, er, didn't know you were much of a romantic."

"Get a fake boyfriend." Said England, lowering his newspaper and looking bored.

"What?"

England rolled his eyes. "You heard me. If you want to make Germany crack, you need to make him jealous. Start pretending to date someone, and he'll realise his feelings for you."

America laughed. "That is the dumbest thing I ever heard."

Italy tilted his head, an intrigued expression on his face. "You know, England...that might actually work."

"Wait, what? You're siding with him now?"

Italy stood up. "I am siding with true love!"

France smirked wickedly. "So....who's gonna be the lucky guy?"

-------------

END CHAPTER.

Sorry for the shortness. Next one out soon. And yeah, this idea has probably been done to death, but the plot bunny attacked. It wasn't my fault, dammit!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Woah....I did not expect a response like that. Thank you all so much for reviewing/faving/alerting! I'm all happy inside now!

Chapter 2

"_So...who's gonna be the lucky guy?"_

Clearly England had not thought this plan through. It was one thing to decide to get a fake boyfriend, but quite another to get someone to go along with it.

"I...uh, I guess I hadn't really thought of that. Maybe one of you guys could do it!" Italy's eyes lit up. "Um, America?"

America looked startled. Italy could tell he hadn't really been paying attention. Probably too busy daydreaming about hamburgers.

"Well, I dunno about that, kid. The things is, I'm sort of...spoken for."

Italy was shocked. "Really? Who?"

America just laughed. "I ain't telling. But I think someone else would probably be more appropriate."

"I'll do it!" exclaimed France. "Who better than me to arouse a man's bitter jealousy...among other things?" he whispered sensuously.

Italy looked worryingly enthusiastic. "Yeah, all right! You can totally be my boyfriend, France!"

"Excellent. Shall I start playing the role now?" France smiled seductively as he slid an arm around Italy's shoulder.

Italy frowned. "No. Only in public. Everyone has to think that we are dating. And that means none of you can spill, got it? This stays between the six of us."

Truth be told, he wasn't particularly worried. It didn't concern America except very peripherally, so in all likelihood he would have forgotten by the time he got home. England couldn't care less about Italy's romantic life, but wasn't likely to actually attempt sabotage. And he could definitely trust Canada. Right?

"Right." Everyone echoed. "It doesn't leave this room."

"Yay! I have a boyfriend!" squealed Italy.

-----------------------------------

"Ludwig, are you here? Where are you?" called Italy as he stumbled into the kitchen.

"Yes, what is it?" Germany frowned as he came inside from the garden.

"Oh, you're still grumpy. Well, no matter, I just wanted to tell you that I won't be here for dinner tonight."

"Why not? We were going to train straight afterwards, if you recall?"

Italy shrugged. "I remember, but something's come up."

"What?"

Italy sighed, trying to make it sound as casual as possible. "I have a date. With this guy I've been seeing."

"W-what?" Germany spluttered. "Since when were _you _seeing someone? I mean, aren't they sick of you already?" he laughed.

"He happens to like me very much, thank you." Snapped Italy indignantly. "And I feel the same way about him. He's taking me on a romantic dinner date. Much better than wasting my time training here."

Germany could feel himself getting angrier and angrier. _Italy was seeing someone? But he always thought....apparently he was wrong._

"Who is this guy?" he demanded.

"Hm? Oh, it's France."

"FRANCE! Absolutely not."

"I'm sorry?"

"France is a pervert! He'll...do all sorts of inappropriate things to you!"

Italy grinned. "I certainly hope so."

"But..you...you can't date France!"

Italy shrugged and began to stalk back into the living room. "And give me one good reason why not?"

Germany followed suit, grabbing Italy's arm. "Because! He's...you know. _France. _He only wants you for your...um, physical charms."

Italy smirked, wrenching himself from Germany's grip. "And until you're ready to give me a better reason than that, I'll be out on my date. See you tomorrow."

Italy tossed his head back, and walked out of the front door, slamming it on his way out.

And that was officially the hardest thing he'd ever done.

But apart from that, game-playing was totally fun!

He wondered why he'd never tried this before.

-----------------------------------

"So...what does one do on a fake date?"

France shrugged. "We could always turn it into a real date...." he suggestively slid his arm once more around Italy's waist.

"No! I already told you! Public places only!"

France pouted. "Fine. But, you know, since I'm nice enough to help you get your man back, and all, you could at least give me _something._"

"I brought you chocolates."

"I am not that dolt Alfred. I cannot be bought with candy."

"They're Belgian truffles....."

"....All right, you sold me."

------------------------------

A few days had passed since Italy and France started "dating". Most of the other nations became vaguely aware of the relationship when France arrived at the next meeting carrying Italy bridal style in his arms, and spent most of said meeting attempting to feel him up, which Italy was not doing a whole hell of a lot to stop, despite the livid glares he was getting from Germany, the very frequent eyerolls from England, and the occasional pauses from America to enquire exactly _where _France's hand was.

Of course, four other nations still knew the relationship was a sham, and were all frankly shocked at how quickly everyone else had accepted it. Not a single one of them suspected.

The six nations who were "in on it", apparently having nothing better to do with their time, met up five days after the start of this "fiasco" (as England was calling it) to discuss strategy.

"I think we should become more touchy-feely in public." Commented France.

"Ew, Francis, no!" cried America. England noticed Canada's look of extreme dismay at France's suggestion. Interesting.

"Well, I think you should just keep going as you are. It seems to be working. Germany's getting angrier by the day." Remarked Japan.

Italy looked puzzled. "There's something that's been bothering me. Even if Germany realised he's madly in love with me, what's he going to do about it if I'm with someone else?"

England cleared his throat. "That is where part two of the plan comes in. Once you are positive he has realised his feelings, start pretending there are cracks in your relationship with France. You could even mention that you like somebody else. Then he'll think there is hope after all."

"And then I break up with Francis and Ludwig asks me out!"

"No, no, no! Do not. Just when he thinks there is hope yet, you break his heart by getting back with France. Then hopefully, he'll come after _you. _If he really cares, that is."

Italy gave England his best ditzy smile. "Thanks, Arthur. Just out of curiosity, how do you know so much about sexual politics?"

England was silent for a couple of moments. "Well. I, ahem, have been around for quite a long time. Eventually...experience in these matters has to occur."

Italy and France exchanged glances, while Japan continued to look vaguely amused and Canada continued to look upset.

--------------------------

"Oh, Francis, you're just so romantic! How did I ever live without you?" Italy threw his arms around France's neck and kissed him on the mouth. In the middle of a crowded restaurant, where several of the nations had decided to do lunch.

"That's kind of adorable, I have to admit." Grinned Spain. "Don't you think, Romano?"

"Hm. Yeah, I guess so. That and creepy."

Japan frowned, and leaned over towards England. "Don't you think he's overdoing it a bit?"

"Maybe. It's Italy, though. This is exactly how he would act if his relationship were real."

"That's a very valid point."

"Oh dear. Poor old Ludwig seems to have had enough."

True enough, Germany was stalking out of the restaurant practically fuming. Japan decided this would be a good opportunity to do a little recon. Perhaps discover how well "the plan" was moving along.

"Hey! Germany!" he called, running to catch up with him.

"Oh. It's just you. What do you want, Japan?"

"Just wanted to ask how you were. What with Italy and France, and all."

Germany snorted. "I couldn't care less about Feliciano's conquests. As long as he still does what I say, there's no problem."

"So that's really all he is to you? You don't care at all for him?"

"Why are you asking me this, Japan? Am I missing something here?"

Japan attempted a coy, innocent look. That failed. "No. I just....don't believe you're really OK with this, that's all."

Germany growled. "Fine. Fucking FINE. I'm not OK with it. It's bollocks. I don't understand it, it's completely ridiculous, it's so generally appalling that it's doesn't even seem true...."

Japan was uncomfortably silent.

"....Oh my god. It's _not _true, is it?"

Japan remained silent. This had been a bad idea.

"It's not true, is it, Japan? Their relationship, it's not real, is it? Japan? Answer me!"

"Fine!" Japan practically squealed. Germany really could be terrifying when he wanted to be. "I admit it. It's a sham. He's doing it to make you jealous. And I just ruined the whole thing!"

Germany smirked. "On the contrary, my friend. You've just given me a very interesting idea."

Japan had a very bad feeling about this. "What kind of idea?"

"Japan. How many people know about this? I mean, the fake relationship."

"Just me, America, England and Canada. And France, obviously."

"OK. It's settled then."

"Settled?"

But Germany did not seem to be listening. He seemed to be addressing an invisible person.

"Ha...so you think you can play me for a fool and get away with it, Feliciano? Well. _Two can play at that game."_

----------------------------

END CHAPTER

Yeah, I know it's progressing quite fast, but I want it to be a short and sweet one. Already writing too many fics that are dragging.


	3. Chapter 3

**Win says**: WINNNNN! My laptop, it is fixed! Which means more chapters! Lashings of ginger beer all around!

**To the readers/reviewers**: Once again, thanks so much for the ridiculous response to this fanfiction which I thought would get about 5 reviews total. Keep it up! You don't know how happy it makes me. Also, thank you to those of you who left helpful advice. Alas, since I already wrote this chapter and have not the time to change it, my attempted improvements will not take effect until chapter 4. Also, I love it when you try to guess the pairings. I'm keeping it as a surprise until the end. Not that I think anyone will be very surprised by the eventual pairings. Anyway, I'm gonna stop rambling now. To the fic!

Chapter 3

"Oh...this really doesn't sound good." Mumbled Japan.

"On the contrary." Said Germany, an almost demonic expression appearing in his eyes. "This is perfect. The game's just begun."

Japan sighed. "I hate games. Why can't everyone just be honest with each other? It would make life so much easier."

"A lot less fun, though."

"I'm starting to think Feliciano is rubbing off on you."

Germany growled. "Take that back."

"No."

"Hm. Say, Japan. How about you and I start our own little - "

"NO. Absolutely not. I am not getting involved in this. Oh, god, I could kill England for this. It's getting completely out of hand."

Germany looked confused. "What's that prick got to do with it?"

Japan gave him a wry smile. "It was England's idea."

"What?!"

The two were thankfully interrupted by the appearance of a small blond nation running to greet them.

"Hey, Japan! Are you OK? What's going on out here?"

"Nothing, Matthew. We were just talking."

Germany interrupted, an epiphany having just struck. "Hey, Matt, want a job?"

Japan's eyes widened. "No, don't get him involved. For one thing he'll probably tell England or America."

Canada looked utterly baffled. "What kind of job?"

"Just a fun, harmless little experiment. How would you like to be my boyfriend, Canada?"

Canada blushed as red a tomato. "B-boyfriend? Um, I don't know, Germany. I mean, not that you're not cute, and all, but the thing is I sort of like somebody else...and I don't know if I like you enough to - "

"Not my _real _boyfriend, you little fool. Pretend."

"Why would you - "

Japan interrupted. "He knows, Matthew. He knows about Feliciano and Francis. I mean, about the utter fakeness of their relationship."

"Oh. I see. So you want to get back at him by dating somebody else too! I get it!"

"Precisely. But the most important thing is, neither of you can tell anybody about this. The plan relies on Feliciano not finding out! He needs to believe I've really found someone else."

"And you want that someone to be me?"

Germany smirked. "Why not? You're attractive enough, I suppose, and trustworthy."

"Well," Canada blushed again, "thanks."

"Now, you two are no longer reporting to those idiots, understand? You're on my team now. And we are going to win."

Japan raised an eyebrow. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because MY TEAM ALWAYS WINS."

"I really think Alfred and Arthur would argue would that statement."

"Not the point. We're going to win at this."

Japan sighed once more. "I cannot believe we all have so little to do with our lives that we're all becoming involved in you and Feliciano's stupid sexual games."

-----------------------------------------

The revelation took place the next day, when Germany and Canada arrived at the world meeting holding hands, Canada (whose acting skills proved to be remarkable) gazing lovingly into Germany's eyes. Needless to say, all hell broke loose.

"What the - "

"YOU AND HIM?"

"Well, I never thought I'd see the day - "

"This is completely disturbing and - "

"Since when?"

All the nations bombarded Germany and Canada with questions. Canada simply blushed and gripped Germany's hand harder.

"Oh, it's only been a couple of days, but we're really happy. I think I might be falling in love!" exclaimed Canada, smiling at Germany, who stared adoringly back at him.

"It's true. I really didn't ever think I would find someone like Matthew. He's just the cutest thing."

Of course, Germany was really saying these words about Italy, but no one needed to know that.

England and America were seated at the back of the room, attempting to ignore the chaos that surrounded the new couple.

They exchanged glances and England smirked. "Well. This is an interesting development." He remarked casually.

America narrowed his eyes. "What d'ya mean by that? Is this _your _doing?"

"Not exactly. I simply anticipated it. Not this soon, of course, but Germany's never been one to stand idly by and do nothing."

Alfred, looking confused at this point, murmured "So is their relationship a fake too?"

"I would be extremely surprised if it wasn't. Germany must have figured it all out by now, he's not a total idiot. Either that or Japan told him. Poor Matthew must be in on it too, I don't imagine Japan would allow Germany to simply string him along. Besides, I happen to know our little Matt's interested in somebody else."

"How d'ya know that?"

"I have eyes." Replied Arthur coolly.

"So Japan and Canada are on his team now?"

"Yes. This is becoming more interesting than I thought it would." Remarked Arthur.

"Why are you doing this? Just for your own entertainment? That's kinda harsh." Muttered Alfred.

Arthur shrugged. "Everyone gets bored once in a while. Besides, despite the fact that you seem to think I have no emotions whatsoever, I'd actually like to see the little bastard happy. Italy's been head over heels in love with Germany since day one. Might as well do something about it."

"Just so long as we win. Our team always wins!"

Arthur almost spluttered with laughter. "Win? You must be joking. If Italy thinks Germany's really seeing Canada, he'll fold like a cheap deckchair! And, come on. It's _Italy. _He's not gonna figure it out."

"Oh....I'm confused again."

------------------------------

That evening was awkward, to say the least. After all, Italy was still staying at Germany's house. And now, the two of them, accompanied by their respective boyfriends, were having a double date at Germany's dining table. The two couples sat across from one another, each attempting to out-flirt the other.

Poor Italy, of course, still believed Germany was none the wiser about his fake boyfriend, and also believed that Germany was really seeing Canada. He was therefore seething with jealousy over the seductive touches Germany kept giving Canada, and was trying his utmost to make Germany just as angry.

"Would anyone like some more wine?" asked Italy, feigning a smile, but speaking through gritted teeth.

France thrust his face right next to Italy's and whispered seductively in his ear "I'd like it if you poured it all over me and licked it off..."

Oh great. Drunk already, and it was only nine o clock. Dating France was no walk in the park, Italy was learning. The man demanded Italy's constant attention whenever they were in public, and often touched him in ways that Italy never wanted to be touched by anyone but Germany. Italy was starting to see how Germany got so annoyed with him. He resolved to attempt to be less irritating after this had all been sorted out.

"I think I'll pass, thanks. I'm going outside for a minute. It's a little warm in here." He glanced at Germany and Canada. "Don't do anything inappropriate while I'm gone." He snapped.

"Oh, Feli, I'll join you!" exclaimed France, and ran out the room with him.

As soon as they were sure the two were gone, Germany and Canada exchanged a low five.

"I think it's working!" said Canada excitedly.

"Yeah, it is." Muttered Germany.

"What's wrong?"

"I just don't want to see Feliciano upset."

"That's....really sweet. I'm sure it'll all be resolved soon!" said Canada with an encouraging smile.

Things were not going as amicably outside. Both France and Italy were completely fooled by Germany and Canada, and neither was at all happy, to say the least. Particularly Italy. Despite the fact that it was a beautiful, clear night (Italy could even hear the cicadas chirping), emotions were running high.

"But, Feli, dear - "

"Do NOT call me that!"

"Why are you so upset?"

"Why do you think?!" hissed Italy. "The plan's not working at all. Instead of becoming jealous like I wanted, he's just taken this excuse to start dating the person he really wanted all along! I don't understand why he didn't just _tell _me instead of pretending to care about me!"

"I'm sure it's not like that...perhaps he is just, how do you say? On the rebound? Maybe he is just using Matthew to try and forget you. It means he still has feelings for you..."

"Then it's not fair to Matthew. He obviously really likes Ludwig, and if he's being strung along...no! Ludwig wouldn't do that! He's obviously really sprung on Matthew, I can tell. I wish...I wish he felt like that about me, but I must have been wrong all along."

France shook his head. "No! We can still make him crack! Just a little longer. He can't stand this any more than you. I can sense that he still loves you! We will win him back! Just be patient, my love!"

"Please, PLEASE do not call me that."

---------------------------

Later that evening, the four of them settled down to watch a movie. Italy suggested a romantic comedy, but Germany insisted on something "less painfully awful". They ended up watching Pulp Fiction.

Which was the perfect excuse for Canada to bury his face in Germany's shoulder when what he referred to as the "scary scenes" came on. He had to hand it to Germany, the man knew how to play the game.

Italy wasn't going to take this play lying down. He threw an arm around France and kissed him on the cheek, whispering "I'm so glad you're here" at various intervals during the night.

Germany hit back a few minutes after the movie ended by asking Italy if he minded if Matthew stayed the night. In his bedroom.

But the winning blow of the night was struck by France, who, a few minutes before he left, took one of Italy's hands in his own, and declared to the world (well, three countries), that:

"Feliciano, you are the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me. I...I love you."

Canada gasped.

Germany folded his armed and frowned.

And as for Italy, well....

"I love you too."

------------------------------

END CHAPTER

Aw, Italy and France are being pretty slow....they'll figure it out in the end! Probably....

Gah, Italy's turning emo...ungood!

I love England. So so much.


	4. Chapter 4

Win says: Gah, so many reviews. I heart all of you.

Chapter Four

"Beach House, beach house, be-e-eeeeeach house!"

Arthur shuddered. He knew that dreadful voice only too well. "What the bloody hell is that caterwauling?!?"

Alfred poked his head around the door. "I'm offended. I thought you loved my singing voice."

"Well, think again."

Alfred threw an arm around the decidedly uncomfortable older nation. "But aren't you super excited about the beach house trip? Only two days to go now!"

"Actually, I'd forgotten all about it." England lied. How could he forget about it when America brought it up every five minutes?

"It's gonna be so cool....I'm gonna get two whole crates of hamburgers! And lots and lots of milkshakes!"

"You're acting like a child. Some of us can't really afford to leave home."

"Don't be such a stick-in the-mud. You'll have a great time if you just loosen up a little..."

"I already agreed to go, stop pushing it." Arthur snapped.

Alfred looked hurt. "You're always so grumpy these days."

"I'm going for a walk. I'll be back later."

--------------------------

England regretted these words five minutes later, when he ran into Japan, in the middle of the desolate street he'd somehow ended up in (what were the odds?). Another reminder of the fiasco that was the plan, and oh, his life.

"Arthur-san? Is that you?"

England sighed. "Yes, Japan, it's me."

"How are things going? Happy about the new development?"

"Germany and Canada? I could care less."

"_You_ did this, didn't you?"

"I might have...._suggested _that Matthew go outside to see what all the fuss was."

"My god, you're good."

"I know."

Japan was silent for a minute before England spoke again. "So, I suppose you're helping Germany now?"

"I suppose I am. It's hardly unheard of, though, is it?"

Arthur snorted. "It's not as if I give a damn."

"I'm sure you don't....so, listen. You and I are the only people involved in this who aren't literally insane. And, well...."

Arthur smirked. "Is this your way of telling me to make sure America doesn't accidentally put his foot in it?"

"Something like that, yes." Japan looked slightly abashed.

"I'm not his keeper."

"But you'll do what you can, won't you?"

Pause.

"Noted."

"One more thing, Arthur."

"Yeah?"

"What are you getting out of all this?"

"....Not all of us can have happiness. Might as well make sure the people who deserve it get it."

With that, he stalked off, leaving Japan to his slightly confused thoughts.

-------------------------

"Oh, Ludwig! Isn't being in love just soooooo wonderful?"

Germany grunted. "Ja. Wonderful. Whatever you say."

Italy was dancing around the living room in a state of utter delight. Germany was internally slightly amused by this ridiculousness, but had to keep his composure, lest he give the game away to the naive Feliciano. Canada had insisted, blushing like mad, that he would love to stay over but that he had an important meeting with his boss the next morning. He and France had ended up leaving together.

"I swear, whenever Francis has gone, I miss him so much! How do you cope whenever Matthew's not around?"

Germany rolled his eyes. "We've been going out three days, Feliciano. Get a grip."

"I just...can't possibly wait for the beach house trip any longer! Do you want to know a secret?"

Germany shrugged, sipping black coffee. "Sure. Go for it."

"I'm going to-to finally lose my virginity in that beach house!"

Germany spat out black coffee all over the pristine oak table. "You're going to what?"

"I want to sleep with Francis. He's the one, I just know it!"

How Italy possibly imagined Germany was stupid enough to buy this, Germany had no idea. Still, the thought of Italy sleeping with France was enough to get his blood up, that was for sure.

"So you plan to seduce him at the beach house?"

Italy giggled. "I really don't think he'll need much persuasion, if you know what I mean. Hee hee. Know what I mean?"

"Italy. Everyone knows what you mean. The coffee table knows what you mean."

"Well, it's going to be amazing, I just know it. Hey, you can do the same with Matthew! And afterwards we can compare notes!"

Now this was getting ever so slightly creepy. "I think not, you little...I'm going to my room. Don't bother me."

Italy smirked to himself. _It's finally working!_

---------------------------------

Well. It wasn't exactly working. But it was doing something, that was for sure. As Germany lay back on his neat, plain bedcovers and stared up at the drab ceiling, he knew that as foolish as Feliciano could be, he was certainly doing a good enough job of getting him jealous. Despite the fact that his relationship with France was as transparent as glass, Germany still found himself disturbed at the very thought of Feliciano, _his _Feliciano, giving himself to that....that _pervert. _It would have to be stopped before it got anywhere near that far.

But that wasn't the only thing bothering him. He was aware that Italy did not know he was not really seeing Canada. He was sure Japan was scared enough of him not to have blabbed, although he had proved surprisingly easy to wrangle a secret out of. But...he did not want Feliciano to be hurt. He had to keep composed at all times, but there were occasions which were too much. The previous night, he had been walking past Feliciano's room on the way to the bathroom, and he was positive he had heard crying. It had hurt. Far too much to stand for much longer. Perhaps winning would not be as easy as first thought.

---------------------------------

The door slammed. Someone began to shuffle towards the stairs, praying he hadn't been heard, that –

"Arthur? Is that you?"

England turned around to see America. _Still _in his house. "What are you still doing here?"

"I need to tell you something."

"I'm not in the mood. Tell me tomorrow."

"But – I - " Alfred spluttered. "Arthur...you've been gone a long time."

"And?"

"And, I was worried."

"Since when do you have cause to be worried about me? Just leave me alone, Alfred, you need to go back home. I'll see you at the stupid beach party..._thing._" Arthur made his way towards the door, but was stopped by Alfred grabbing his arm and spinning him around. "What are-get off me!"

"No. Please. _Please, _Arthur, I - "

"Let me go. We have nothing to talk about." Arthur wrenched his arm from the taller man's grasp and ran out.

"Wait! I still have to tell you something!"

"What?!"

"I-um, think I said something I shouldn't have..."

---------------------------------------

"H-hey, Ludwig? Do you mind if I come in?" Italy knocked tentatively on the door.

Germany sat up, surprised to hear Italy's voice. He had thought the young man had gone out, probably to "plot" with France, America and England. Apparently not. "Uh, yeah. Come in."

Italy sat down next to Germany on his bed, looking slightly embarrassed. "I just wanted to make sure you were OK. You ran off quite quickly. And, well...you haven't been acting like yourself lately. Ever since France and I got together, you've been a little...off."

Germany internally smirked. _So you think your silly little plan is working, eh, Feliciano? _"Well. To be perfectly honest with you, Feliciano, when you first told me you were seeing France, I didn't know what to think. I was - shocked. And a little upset, I admit it frankly. But when I started seeing Matthew...everything with you and Francis just sort of flew out of the window. I admit that I asked him out to try and forget about you. I feel terrible about using him like that. But...he's really amazing. I've really fallen for him. And I have you to thank."

Germany faltered. He had gone a little bit too far. Italy's eyes were welling up with tears.

"I – um..." Italy choked back the tears. "I have to go. I'm really glad you're so happy!" he managed to say, as he ran out of the room.

This was not good, Germany thought to himself. He was really hurting Feliciano's feelings. At this rate, he'd end up telling him the truth to spare him any more pain before Feliciano cracked out of jealousy. But no! No! He could not allow anyone plotting with England and America to beat him! Even at this! He'd wipe the superior grin right off that smug English face...

-----------------------

END CHAPTER

Win Says: I just realised this doesn't make sense. I'm setting it in modern times, and yet....Prussia? Let's just call it an AU and leave it there, kay? Since there'll be iPods in the next chapter. AU, I say! AU!

Oh, England. You're so tsundere. Gah, Arthur Kirkland makes me patriotic like nothing else but Elgar, and that's not a good thing, I'm thinking.

Y'know, I've almost finished this fic. I have the last chapter, and (most of) the next one. It's just the one in between.

Anyway, tune in next time for beach house fun times!


	5. Chapter 5

Win says: Argh. I want to put more emotional stuff in it, but this chapter is basically my failed attempt at humour all the way through until the last section.....it WILL get more angsty. It will.

Also, yay! The fic is almost coming to its dramatic conclusion.

Chapter 5

Two days later, at the crack of dawn, a collection of tired, stressed and altogether not-particularly-looking-forward-to-this nations gathered at the abandoned tire yard where two rather decrepit, sixties-looking vans were parked, and America was looking far too pleased with himself.

"Yo! Gather round, everybody! Are you guys ready to party?!"

No one answered. In fact, no one would have been surprised if tumbleweed had rolled past at that very moment.

"I'll take that as a hell yeaaaaah!"

Silence.

"...All right, just get in the vans."

Arthur choked. "_Get _in the vans? I think not. Have you seen them?"

America folded his arms. He was tired of this. "Just get in and stop complaining! Van one: Germany, Canada, Prussia, Austria, Hungary, China, Arthur - " he winked at England at this point causing the man to roll his eyes and snort in displeasure – " and me, of course! Van two: Italy, France, Romano, Spain, Japan, Russia, Lithuania, Poland. Now who wants to drive? Apart from me, of course!"

"You are not driving." Snapped England. "You're reckless and dangerous. I'll drive."

"No way, you're so slow!" complained America.

At this point, Japan stepped in. "Look. Why don't I drive our van and Austria can drive yours. We're both responsible drivers, and won't break the speed limit, or cause any untimely deaths. How about that?"

And so, ten minutes later, eight nations were cooped up together in a van that was not only carpeted and painted with peace symbols, but smelled suspiciously like marijuana. This was living.

"Not to complain any more" began Arthur, "but is there any particular reason we couldn't take the jet?"

"Hey!" America protested. "You're the one who's always telling me I need to be more environmentally conscious. Do you know how much damage those carbon emissions would do to our ozone layer?"

Arthur was inexplicably blushing. "I, er, right. Yeah. Sure."

Meanwhile, in the imaginatively named "Van Two" everyone was wishing that for the next two hours, they had no ears.

"Sixty-two bottles of beer on the wall, sixty-two bottles of beer! You knock one down, it goes around, sixty-one bottles of beeeeeeeeeer!" Italy chanted enthusiastically. What a shame no one else seemed to share his enthusiasm. France was stroking his hair lovingly and nuzzling his neck in a poor attempt to distract him from the song, Romano and Spain were holding each other until the pain went away, Lithuania and Poland were playing snap while occasionally wincing at Italy's attempts at high notes, and Russia was softly mumbling "soon he will become one with Russia and then there will be no more bottles of beer..." under his breath and fondling his pipe.

Italy was not deterred.

-----------------------

Two hours, one hundred bottles of beer, fifteen arguments, eleven "unintentional" pulls on Italy's hair, forty-one "snap!"s, and countless surreptitious glances at England later, the two vans pulled in to the driveway of America's famous beach house.

It hadn't been an enjoyable trip for any of them. No bottles of beer in van one, but there had been many, _many _arguments about who would get to plug in their iPod. America argued with England for over fifteen minutes about punk music, an argument which ended when England almost knocked America out for insinuating that Green Day were better than The Sex Pistols. In the end they listened to Austria playing Chopin's Nocturnes. On repeat.

But the nations had to hand it to America, this was a nice beach house. Secluded by deciduous woods, and right next to the ocean. It was large enough that only eight nations would have to room-share, and there was a pretty summer house by the pool, which America had somehow forgotten to mention. Even Arthur could not think of anything critical to say when he saw that he not only had a kettle in his room but that America had stocked up fully on tea.

He still wasn't entirely happy about the fact that he would be stuck in the middle of nowhere with Alfred for two days, of course.

Italy had christened his and France's room "The Palace of Love". Spain and Romano, also sharing, bemoaned the fact that they were next door to the "happy couple". The walls were reasonably thin.

Italy, for most of the remainder of the morning, alternated between very publicly making out with France, and unsubtly scowling at Germany and Canada, presumably hoping no one would notice.

The afternoon passed uneventfully, most of the nations cooping themselves up in their own rooms, apart from England, who spent most of the day in the summer house hiding from America. Russia and China took it upon themselves to clean out the vans for the return trip, and Spain convinced Romano to go on a walk on the beach with him.

Dinner was an interesting event. The table was large enough to fit all sixteen of them around it, seven on each side, and one at each end. America and England took the two ends, England scowling throughout the entire meal and America valiantly attempting (but failing) to ignore him.

"So." Japan bravely tried to start conversation. "How did everyone find the trip down? I personally find it so relaxing to drive. How about you, Austria?"

Austria folded his arms and snorted at Japan. "If you call listening to two grown men argue about pop music relaxing, then yes, Kiku." He snapped.

"I call it unresolved sexual tension." France whispered in a giggling Italy's ear.

Japan was undeterred. The calm man was determined to make some form of civilised conversation. "Well, I enjoyed Feliciano's rendition of one hundred bottles of beer. I thought you sang it very well."

Italy smiled. "Thanks, Kiku! I hope everyone enjoyed it!"

There was no response.

"Well." Said Japan. "So, are all the rooms sorted out yet, then? Have we decided who's sharing with who?"

America perked up. "I love sharing a room! We get our own shower! And it's so much bigger than the singles..."

England rolled his eyes. "That's because you gave yourself the biggest room deliberately, you selfish tosser."

America winked at him. "Don't you mean, gave _us _the biggest room."

Arthur blushed and stood up. "I'm going to get more wine. Does anyone else want anything?"

"Vodka would be good. I put it in the top cupboard over the oven." Requested Russia.

England nodded. "Can do. As a matter of fact, do you mind if I partake of some of that vodka?"

"Not at all, not at all. We can share it."

"But you hate vodka!" protested America.

"Whatever." Snapped England, and stalked out of the room.

"What's wrong with Arthur?" asked Canada. "He's being so mean to Alfred. I don't understand."

France's attention immediately diverted to the boy, putting an arm around his shoulders and reassuring him. "Oh, Matthew, I'm sure he'll be just fine. Don't you dare worry about him!"

Germany, who had been distracted by Italy, almost forgot that he was meant to be dating Canada, and quickly shoved France away. "Get off him. You've got your own boyfriend." He scowled.

The rest of dinner passed in a largely similar vein, until France took hold of Italy's hand and declared that they were going to bed. Italy feigned excitement, but no one was fooled, particularly when coupled with the look he gave Germany, whose fingers were intertwined with Canada's. He looked as though he was about to burst into tears.

Germany and Canada, too, announced they were going to have an early night, as they were all expected to take part in a "fun day on the beach" come morning time, enforced, of course, by America.

The rest of the party trailed out until only Japan, Russia, America and a very drunk England remained.

"Russia! You get me more....of the vodka! Now, you fucker."

Russia shook his head, gently prising England's still half-full glass from his fingers. "I think you've had enough vodka, Arthur."

"Bloody magical unicorn!"

"I'm sorry?"

Without responding, England ran towards the window, vodka bottle in hand, wrenched it open, and tried to fling himself out, screaming "I'm coming, magical unicorn! I love youuuuu!"

Thankfully, he was restrained by Japan and Russia, while America looked on worriedly.

"Arthur, I really think you should go to bed now. You've had a lot a lot to drink, and - "

"Ah, shut up, Kiku, what the fuck do you know? Russia, your vodka is not strong enough! Next time bring absinthe. And you..." he glared at America, hissing his words as well as slurring them by this point, "I hate you the most of all. You...with your stupid fucking heroics, and your disgusting hamburgers, and your bastardisation of my language, and your...your blue eyes..." With this, Arthur proceeded to pass out, hitting his head on the dinner table on the way down.

America flung the unconscious nation over his shoulder. "I'll, uh..put him to bed."

"He hit his head quite hard. He might have concussion."

Russia nodded. "Yes, what if he doesn't wake up?"

"I'll stay up with him all night to make sure he's breathing. I won't leave his side until he wakes up." Replied America.

Japan and Russia exchanged glances. "That's very kind of you, Alfred, but we can take shifts if you - "

"No. I'll do it." America left the room and carried England up the stairs.

--------------------------------

And so the night passed. Germany lay awake in his double bed, Canada lightly snoring beside him, clutching his bear tightly. Germany could not sleep. He had run into Italy on the way to the kitchen, where he had ventured to pick up a late night snack. Italy had obviously been crying, and when Germany tried to ask him what was wrong, he simply ran off without reply.

Germany glanced over at the snoozing Canada, hoping, despite himself, that he was OK. It was obvious Canada had strong feelings for someone else, and Germany could not help but hope Canada ended up happy as well.

This beach trip was going to be a disaster, Germany could sense it. The next day they were being forced into all manner of beach–related frivolity by America. There was even going to be watermelon smashing. And – they were expected to do fun, group activities like beach volleyball, and swimming. Ugh. It was not looking promising. Germany thought about Italy, on the other side of the wall from him, sleeping next to France. He prayed Italy was not in any pain – or did he flatter himself that Italy cared enough about him to be crying over him? He pressed his hand to the wall and held his breath, thinking that if he was silent enough he might be able to hear Italy's soft breathing through the wall.

Italy, on the other side, was not sleeping. He was sitting on his knees in his bed, touching the wall and wishing more than anything else that he was beside Germany instead of France. His heart beat faster as he thought of Germany, remembered the times before all of this started, the times he and Germany used to sleep in the same bed, the times they exchanged tender hugs, and Italy could kiss Germany softly on the cheek. His heart stung at the thought of Germany exchanging those same kisses with Canada.

Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

----------------------------

END CHAPTER

Win says: I would rather listen to Chopin than either Sex Pistols or Green Day....I'm such a nerd. Plus, I love Austria. Can't help it.

2 more chapters to go! I think. Alas! I have completely written the last chapter, but none of the next one. Therefore I must warn you, it might be a little longer before the next one is out.


	6. Chapter 6

Win says: This chapter was getting quite long (I prefer shorter, quicker chapters – although not too short of course!), so I took the executive decision to divide it into two chapters. So, I present The Beach Episode part 1.

Also, let's just get one thing straight. I would never diss Green Day! I may not listen to them much anymore, but they're the first band I loved, my first gig and basically the reason I love music. Anyway, I know you were joking but I just wanted to reassure everyone that I do indeed have a place in my heart for Green Day. If ever I insult bands, I never mean it.

Also, again, you're all wonderful, but especially you reviewers! :3

Chapter 6

It was definitely light. He could tell by the way his head pounded every time the sun flashed through the clouds. He was slightly clammy, and distinctly needed some water.

Arthur sat up suddenly, regretting it instantly when he realised he felt like he'd been hit with a sledgehammer. He also realised he was not alone, and that a certain someone was not only sitting beside his bed, but holding his hand.

"Alfred? How long have you been sitting there?"

America shrugged. "About ten minutes. I got up just to see how you were. I'm glad you're awake, Arthur. We were all a little worried about you."

"What happened?" Arthur was having a bit of trouble actually remembering the events of the previous night.

"Not much. You had a bit too much vodka, and tried to fling yourself out of the window. You passed out and hit your head."

"So that's why it hurts so bloody much." Said Arthur, wrenching his hand from Alfred's grasp. "Are you still enforcing this damned beach trip?"

"You don't have to come if you don't want to." Said Alfred, looking disappointed. "But the beach is right out there...And I would probably get bored if you didn't come. No one hurls constant insults at me when you're not around..."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Of course I'll go. Just...get out so I can change, all right?"

Alfred grinned. "Awesome. I'll meet you downstairs in ten minutes, kay?"

--------------------------------

It was a gorgeous day. The sun was shining, the sea was sparkling blue, and the sand was golden. It was a paradise, and there weren't even that many other people on the beach. They had much of it to themselves, and it was wonderful.

Once all sixteen nations present had congregated on the beach, set up their parasols, towels, and applied sun lotion, lunch was definitely in order. America produced two large picnic baskets, and everyone tucked in.

Unfortunately, the beauty of the day and the deliciousness of the food could not make up for one thing: the unpleasant tension within the group. All the nations felt it, but none said anything. Lithuania and Poland attempted in vain to make conversation, and Hungary, too, joined in, but to no avail. England was not snapping at America, he wasn't talking at all, and this was somehow worse. Italy, after the events of the previous night, was not speaking to Germany at all, and wouldn't even meet his eyes. Prussia, as per usual, did not notice anything wrong, and kept up lively conversation with Spain, who had an arm around a slightly uncomfortable Romano.

After most of the food was gone, it came time for activities. Everyone was far more enthusiastic than America had expected, probably because actually doing something would be much less uncomfortable than sitting around in silence.

A silence that, for once, was not punctuated by frequent remarks about heroism and catty insults.

"Where's America?" asked Spain. "I thought it seemed awfully quiet around here."

Japan shrugged. "He went over to the towels to get some coke, I think."

The rest of them had moved over to another part of the beach to smash watermelons. France was tying a cloth over Italy's eyes to serve as a blindfold. The large green fruit was placed before the giggling nation, and he clung to the bat with a slightly demented smile on his face. France spun him around three times and instructed him to destroy the melon. Unfortunately, a dizzy, blindfolded Italy did not result in a smashed watermelon. It did, however, result in a smashed toe – namely, that of Japan.

"OW! _Italy...._that really hurt...."

Italy squealed and pulled off the blindfold. "Oh, no, Kiku! Did I get you?"

Kiku sighed. He could not stay angry with Italy – it was as futile as trying to convince England that unicorns were not real. The ditzy, upset face was just too adorable.

"Just a little. It didn't really hurt, don't worry, Italy."

China looked concerned. "Maybe you should go sit down, Kiku."

Japan nodded. "Yeah, I'll go over to the towels, and – OW!" He had found that walking unaided was not exactly painless.

Prussia came over to him, and wrapped an arm around his side. "Here. I'll help you walk. I think I want to be as far away from this game as I can, to be frank."

The two walked back, and Italy looked mortified. "I can't believe I hurt Kiku! What if I broke his toe? What if it becomes infected? What if he dies? Oh, I'll never forgive myself, oh, Kiku, I - "

"Feliciano." Germany interrupted. "Do not worry about Japan. His toe is not broken. The bone may be bruised, at worst. He will probably not be able to walk on it for the next day, if that. You need to stop worrying. I won't have it."

Everyone stared at Germany, who proceeded to turn very red once he realised this fact. "Well. We should carry on. I'll go next. But perhaps we should all stand a little further back this time."

--------------------------------

The watermelon smashing contest proceeded. Germany, unsurprisingly, smashed the watermelon clean in two on his first attempt. China took two tries. Russia refused the use of the bat and instead mangled his watermelon into a pulp with his pipe. Hungary almost hit England right in the head on her turn, but thankfully Canada, who considered that perhaps another blow to England's skull wasn't the best idea, pulled him out of the way just in time for an innocent palm tree to receive the blow instead. After Italy, once again, failed to hit anywhere near the watermelon , the contest was declared over, and Germany was presented with the prize, an extremely creepy gremlin doll that Italy was convinced was possessed.

"It's not a gremlin, anyway." Protested Hungary. "It's a mogwai. Get it right."

Italy squirmed. "I don't like the look in its eye. It's going to _get _me. Protect me from it, Francis."

France flashed his trademark seductive smile. "Fear not, my love, I will make sure that minion of Russi – I mean, the devil, will never harm you." He lifted Italy in his arms and carried him bridal style back to the towels, where most of the nations were convening.

England arrived to find Japan and Prussia sitting very close among several pieces of baggage, rather suspicious looks on their faces.

He narrowed his eyes. "What are you two doing?" he asked.

"Nothing, nothing at all." They replied in unison.

"What are you hiding behind there?"

"Nothing!" Once again, simultaneous.

"This is ridiculous." Snapped England, and stood up to peer over Japan's shoulders. "Oh. He's asleep? Why didn't you want me to see – I don't understand. Why is he asleep? Surely he slept plenty last night?"

America, while fetching coke, had fallen asleep on Japan's towel, coke bottle still in hand.

Japan cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I – um, I don't think he got very much sleep last night. OK, he, uh, didn't get any."

"Why the bloody hell not?"

Japan looked as though he very much wished he was anywhere else at that moment. "He asked me not to tell you."

"I don't give a damn. Tell me right now, Japan."

"He stayed up all night looking after you, OK? He stayed by your side, holding your hand all night, in case you had concussion. Happy now?"

England certainly did not look it. As a matter of fact, he looked as though he was about to cry, something he was sure he had not done since that awful day, on his knees in the mud and the rain, all those hundreds of years ago. He got up and ran back towards the house without another word.

Japan looked immensely guilty. "I feel terrible. I really should never be trusted with other people's secrets."

Prussia attempted a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. It will all work out for the best."

Japan shrugged. "I sort of screwed up the Germany and Italy thing too."

"Nonsense! Those two will be together before the day is out, you'll see."

The conversation was interrupted by Hungary, who was brandishing a hat filled with small pieces of paper. "Hey! Are any of you playing volleyball? We're setting up the net now." Indeed, Germany and Spain were attempting to string a net whose poles were precariously balanced in the sand.

Prussia shook his head. "I don't think so. Kiku can't really walk, let alone play volleyball. America's out cold, and it's probably kindest, for all of us, to let him sleep. Arthur's run off to go cry in the bathroom, and probably drink himself into a stupor. And if I play, your teams won't be even. Besides, I'm enjoying myself."

Hungary shrugged. "Suit yourself. I'm gonna draw names, guys."

She delved into the hat and picked out teams. It was probably safer and quicker than choosing teams themselves.

"Team one! Germany, Italy, Austria, Lithuania, Poland, and...me! Yay!"

France looked most put out. "Feliciano, my love, we must play against each other!"

Italy pouted. "At least it's only for a couple of hours."

France pulled him into his arms, kissing him passionately. "I promise I shall let you win!"

His team, which consisted of Canada, China, Russia, Spain and Romano all groaned. "No!" yelled Romano. "Don't you dare go easy on them just because you're sleeping with one of them, even if it is my dumbass brother. It's pathetic. I refuse to lose that potato-bastard. And you are going to try or else I'll kick your sorry ass."

France looked abashed.

"He's right, Francis." Said Italy adoringly. "You have to try. If you try your best...I'll reward you tonight." This would have been a lot more convincing if it didn't look like it physically pained him to say the words.

France, of course, needed no more convincing than this. He happily bounded over to his side of the net, winking saucily at Italy, while his teammates looked on in disgust. Apart from Canada, of course, who looked as though he was about to burst into tears.

---------------------------

END CHAPTER

Win says: Yeah, so the next chapter is written. If it seems like it ended in a strange place here, it's because I wrote it as one chapter, then split it in the most appropriate place. I guess the next one'll probably appear two days from now. Look forward to lots of volleyball action, Prussia angst (?) and attempted lulz.

Also, gremlin dolls are creepy. I have one. There's a picture of it on my eljay somewhere....in the May 1st entry.


	7. Chapter 7

Win says: I love all of you like burning. Keep up the reviewing! And for those of you confused by the gremlin doll thing, the link to my eljay is in my profile. Find the May 1st entry.

And yes, Prussia may be ever so slightly OOC in this chapter. Never mind, eh, suspend your disbelief! Oh, and I know I said I wouldn't reveal any of the end pairings but let me just say this: No, Prussia will not get with Japan. That's a little random even for me. ;p

Chapter 7

Beach volleyball, as it turned out, was very few nations' strong points. Italy was remarkably useless, considering he had numerous beaches himself, but then again, he was not paying any attention to the game. Germany was not even particularly good, despite the fact that none of them had ever seen him fail at anything. Lithuania and Poland were so useless they spent most of the time poking each other and chasing each other around the beach, which usually resulted in one of them ending up on top of the other. Austria just stood there doing basically nothing. The strong point of their team ended up being Hungary, who threw herself into the sport, and turned out to be worryingly competitive, screaming at Italy whenever he did something wrong, earning her numerous murderous glares from Germany. The other team was similarly awful, Russia having never so much as been to the beach, let alone having played beach volleyball. Canada was having similar problems, frequently complaining that the sun was in his eyes, and that it was too hot to concentrate. Their only hope was the combination of Spain and Romano, both of whom were competent enough.

Japan and Prussia were looking on from the towel area while continuing their conversation.

"No, I'm, serious. You should definitely come out partying with me sometime, Kiku. You're so stoic. I know there's a kinky freak in you somewhere. I know this for a fact, I've seen some of your...what's it called? Hentai? What's with your thing about tentacles? I gotta be honest, even for my tastes, that's a little - "

"Shut up, Gilbert...there's nothing wrong with manga usually. I'm not as bad as Germany. Or America. Or even England."

"I'm just teasing you, Kiku." Laughed Prussia. "But seriously. There must be someone you like. Or do we need to go out and score?"

"I'm not interested in anyone. No one at all." Said Japan stiffly.

"Now, why don't I believe you?"

"It's true. There's no one here I would ever be interested in. I used to...feel a certain way towards China, but that's long since over. Besides, if I touched him again, I'd be killed in an extremely unpleasant way by Russia, I suspect."

Prussia nodded. "Well. Thanks for being honest, at least."

Japan rolled his eyes. "You're so transparent, Gilbert. There's something bothering you. A certain person, perhaps?"

"Not at all!" snorted Prussia, with extremely unconvincing indignance. "It – it's not..." he spluttered.

"You might as well tell me who it is, although I've proved myself to be a pretty bad accomplice in matchmaking so far."

"He..he's just so..I can't describe it! I usually don't give two shits about the men, and women, I sleep with, but...he's just different. He's so cold, and so beautiful. He's clever, and talented, and it just pisses me off that I can never have him."

"Why not?"

"He loves someone else. Always will. They're so different, but they go perfectly together. Him with his austerity, and elegance, and her with her perkiness and...god damn her. I can never be as carefree as that. I try, but I'm no fucking good at it."

Japan nodded. "I'm beginning to get a better idea of what this is about. Austria, right? You have a thing for him."

Prussia shrugged. "Yeah, I guess I do. Whenever he plays the piano...it gives me the shivers. In a definitely good way."

"Ah. I see."

"It's no good, is it?"

Japan did not know what to say. He was confident that Austria was very much hung up on Hungary, demonstrated aptly by his awkward attempts to cuddle her whenever she was around, despite her obliviousness. He didn't want to hurt Prussia's feelings, even though he did not know the man very well. "I think you should maybe...try and find someone else. I mean, I know how difficult it can be, when the person you want is with someone else. I know how unfair it can feel, when someone chooses another over you. But I think it would make you feel better if maybe you focused your attentions on someone else for a while. Maybe it would distract you a little."

"So you think it's hopeless too." Prussia looked depressed.

"I'm sorry. I just think he and Hungary are pretty much - "

"Yeah. I get it. I agree, it's just...hearing someone else say it makes it weirdly real. It just kind of hurts more."

"I'm sorry...."

"It's not a problem. I can deal with it quite well on my own. So, how's the foot feeling?" Prussia asked, attempting to change the subject.

"Not the best. I probably shouldn't attempt to walk."

"Good."

Japan frowned. "How's that good?"

"I get to put my arm around you even more."

Japan flicked him on the forehead. "Not _me, _you idiot!"

------------------------------------

The volleyball game was progressing quite well. Of course, "well" really meant ridiculous, most of the time.

Germany and Italy's team were being slaughtered. Hungary was getting more and more frustrated, despite Austria's attempts to pacify her, and things were only going to get worse.

"Here! I'm open!" yelled Germany to Austria, who had received the ball. Austria's aim was not exactly the best, and he managed to hit the ball at least five feet to Germany's right. Germany dived for it, but unfortunately, Italy, who was not paying any attention, and was likely daydreaming about pasta, was directly in the way.

The next thing Germany knew, he was on the floor, right on top of Italy, the smaller nation having instinctively wrapped his arms around for support. Italy's face was flushed, and Germany became painfully aware that neither of them was wearing much clothing. He was also aware that his lips were very close to Italy's. Thankfully, he pulled himself together and remembered that he was in public, and as much as he desperately wanted to crush his lips to Italy's in one of those romantic kisses Italy was always talking about, he just about managed to restrain himself long enough to pull his body off Italy's and help him to his feet.

France was scowling unpleasantly at Germany from across the other side of the net, and Canada was also not looking thrilled. Spain and Romano insisted the game continued, and Romano, who was starting to get aggravated at the rest of the players' distinct lack of skill, pelted it as hard as he could over the net towards Germany. But it seemed that Romano's aim was more than a little off when he was angry, and the ball ended up hitting Austria very hard in the face, breaking his glasses.

Austria had to sit out, being that he couldn't see, and had no way of fixing his glasses. Much to the chagrin of Prussia, he sat beside him and Japan, looking adorably embarrassed and upset.

The teams were now uneven, and Canada, who hated volleyball and most other summer sports, instantly volunteered to sit out. The remainder of the players, all of whom were becoming more competitive by the minute (apart from Italy, who was by this point waving his white flag) started to take things a little more seriously than they ought to have done. Spain's serve almost knocked Italy out, Germany nearly throttled France for no adequately explored reason, Hungary slapped Poland across the face for holding Lithuania's hand when he should have been paying attention, and even Italy eventually started to focus a little more.

Meanwhile, the conversation over at the towels had started to dry up a little, when the volleyball, which had been struck by a rather overenthusiastic Spain, flew over Japan's unsuspecting head and hit whatever was behind him. Whoops.

"Sorry! Didn't mean to!" yelled Spain.

"Argh." America sat up, clutching the ball. "What happened?"

"The volleyball game is getting a little violent." Explained Japan.

America looked confused. "Volleyball? I thought we were playing watermelons first."

"We did. That was almost two hours ago."

"I-I've been asleep all that time?"

Japan nodded. "Well, you must be very tired."

America shrugged. "I'm OK now I've slept. So who's winning?"

Japan had no idea, so Prussia interjected. "Spain's team, just about. Mainly because they've got two decent players to the other team's one."

"Ah. Hey – where's Arthur?"

Prussia shrugged. "He ran off. He was pretty upset. We all thought it was better to just leave him alone. He's probably still feeling ill, too."

"Why was he upset?"

Japan attempted to handle this diplomatically, but apparently diplomacy wasn't really Prussia's style.

"Kiku told him you stayed up with him all night, and he got all upset and ran off."

"Oh god." Said America, as Japan buried his face in his hands. "He did? Oh crap, I'd better go find him. See you guys later." He ran off towards the beach house, leaving Japan glaring at Prussia.

Meanwhile, the volleyball game was getting much more interesting, now that Germany's team had discovered that Italy, when he was paying attention, was even better at volleyball than Romano, who was even more pissed off than before. Italy had managed to win an entire game for his team, with Hungary's assistance, and it was now tied at two games all.

Lithuania and Poland had sat down at the back of the makeshift court, being that their contribution to the match so far had been approximately none. France had gone to join Canada underneath his parasol. Germany was watching Italy with an adoring gaze as he slammed the ball into the sand over the net, narrowly missing Spain's head, but Germany himself was taking little part in the match itself. Russia and China were whispering to each other at the other side of the court, fingers laced together. Essentially, the volleyball match had descended to two-a-side.

"Come on, serve the ball!" yelled Italy at an infuriated Romano.

"This is certainly becoming more interesting." Remarked Japan. "I never knew Italy could be quite so competitive."

Canada and France had taken to cheering for Germany and Italy respectively on the sidelines, and even Prussia was watching with interest.

The game finally drew to a close with a powerful shot from Hungary, which sailed past Spain and Romano, and landed at a bemused Russia's feet. "Oh?" he enquired. "We are losing, da?"

Romano looked as though he was about to burst a blood vessel. "We LOST, you idiot!"

Hungary squealed with joy and hugged her only useful teammate, Italy, before rushing over to Austria. Italy turned to hug Germany, only to see him in an embrace with Canada, kissing his head gently and stroking his back. Italy felt that sharp stabbing pain to the heart, and reluctantly retreated to France, who was awaiting him with open arms and his perverted smile.

And thus did the epic game of volleyball between the nations end. Spain and Romano were not happy at all, but Spain, at least, accepted his loss with relative grace. He tried to give Romano a consoling hug, but Romano, clearly blaming Spain in part for his loss to his brother and Germany, who he still despised, was not having it.

The competition forgotten, several nations frolicked for a while in the sea while it was still light. Hungary dragged Austria into the clear blue waters, promising not to leave him alone and half-blind. Lithuania and Poland were having a water fight, while Russia and China were investigating a rock pool with a couple of starfish.

"Well." Said Prussia. "It's been less awful than previously imagined."

"How so?" asked Japan, still nursing his battered foot.

"I got to sit here and have an interesting conversation. I got out of any group activities. I also got to watch Romano get angry enough to try to beat the living hell out of Russia."

"I don't know." Protested Japan. "As far as I'm concerned, the whole day has been just as awkward as anticipated. I wish the whole thing just sorted itself out."

"Let me guess, you mean Germany and Italy?"

"Pretty much."

"It'll be fine. I wouldn't recommend getting involved." Prussia advised.

"I'm not going to. It's just frustrating."

------------------------------------

Dusk eventually approached, and when everyone was full of food and tired from the day's activities, they collectively decided it was time to head back to the house. It took no more than five minutes, and everyone strolled into the house, except France and Italy, who went in via the pool, France insisting that the view was romantic. The view of the pool was indeed, romantic. The view of the poolhouse, however, was not, primarily because Italy noticed America and England inside, clearly arguing. Italy couldn't see properly, but it looked as though America was in tears, a sight Italy had never seen and never expected to see. He was usually so hyperactive and happy. It was distressing to see both of them in such a state, and Italy insisted he and France go inside.

The evening wore on, and Germany and Canada were together in the kitchen, making some tea. England and America had come inside, but very rapidly disappeared again, and no one wanted to know what was going on, frankly. Italy decided it was about time for some pasta. Unfortunately, he chose to walk into the kitchen at the very moment Germany and Canada decided to kiss. After all, France was present, and Germany wasn't going to let that wine-drinking pervert think he was winning. He therefore grabbed Canada, who, with his excellent acting skills, responded in kind, and the two began to kiss passionately. Italy appeared. And very shortly afterwards, Italy was gone.

"Where did he run off to?" wondered France. "Ah well. I will find him later."

Germany growled. "That's not good enough for me. I'm going to find him now."

France shrugged, sensing that the climax of the weekend was very fast approaching, and to pretend any longer would be a little futile. "Whatever. I shall stay here with Matthew and help him make the tea."

Germany looked everywhere in the house. His bedroom, Italy's room, the bathroom, the airing cupboard, the attic, everywhere. He even deigned to ask a still wounded Romano if he had seen his brother, only to have a pillow thrown at him. Feeling that he would probably have something a lot harder than a pillow thrown at him if he dared to venture into America's room, he tactfully decided Italy was probably not in there, and continued his search.

To no avail. Where had Italy disappeared to?

------------------------------

END CHAPTER

Win says: Next one = last one, yay! *excited*

Also, boy howdy, do I ever not blame Prussia. NOT AT ALL. Austria is so....GAH! Poor old Prussia.


	8. Chapter 8

Win says: Yes, this is the last chapter. It has gone fast, but bear in mind that I am very, VERY fickle, and I'm sure everyone would rather have a short, finished fic than a long, unfinished one for which the writer has no enthusiasm. I'd love to write another hetalia fic, but the plot bunny will have to attack me first! By the way, I'm pretty nervous about this last chapter – I really hope it's all right!

One final thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, faved and alerted, you made it so much easier for me to continue writing more. 3

Chapter 8

"Hey, have either of you seen Italy yet?" asked Germany, slightly concerned about the missing nation. After scouring the entire house, he returned to the kitchen to see France and Canada, France's arm slung casually around Canada. He didn't even bother to comment.

Canada shook his head, but France pointed towards the door. "He is outside, crying next to the pool."

Germany blinked. "Crying? Why would he be – why aren't you doing anything about it?"

France shrugged. "He wanted to be left alone. Although - I heard him mumbling your name. Maybe you should go talk to him?"

Germany narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "OK. I'm not – well, OK."

He wandered towards the pool, the turquoise waters glittering magnificently in the evening dusk, the candle lights reflecting on the shallow waves. Italy was indeed sobbing quietly, trailing his fingers along the edge of the pool.

"Feliciano!" whispered Germany, running to sit beside the weeping nation, his heart aching at the very sight. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, as if you don't know!" moaned Italy. "I can't take it anymore, Ludwig, it hurts too much!"

"What, what does?" begged Germany frantically.

"You and Matthew. I can't-can't deal with it any longer!"

Germany shook his head. "But – but you and Francis!" he spluttered. "Aren't you - "

"Yes, yes, we are, but it doesn't matter how much we care for each other, or how many gifts he buys me, or how romantic he is – every time I'm with him I'm only thinking of you!" wailed Feliciano.

"So...you mean...?"

Italy nodded. "I love you. I love you so much it hurts. I'm in pain all the time I'm awake, just thinking about you and Matthew..."

Germany could not take this any longer. He officially forfeited. His heart was breaking in two as Feliciano's words flooded his senses. "Feli...I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. You love Matthew. I have to deal with it."

"But no!" Germany exclaimed. How could he possibly make Italy understand?

"No?" murmured Italy.

"It's _you, _Feliciano, it always has been! It's you that I love! My relationship with Matthew is fake! Just like yours is with France! Yes, yes, I know all about that! Kiku told me." Germany registered the look of astonishment on Italy's face as he valiantly tried to carry on. "You don't have to pretend any more, I know you were only with France to make me jealous...I admit it, I did the same thing with Canada. He's in on the whole thing. It's over, Feliciano, just....it's over."

Italy's face was a mixture of disbelief and utter joy. "Are you serious? Are – are you really serious?"

Germany pulled Italy into his arms, their faces mere inches away. "Yes, Feliciano, I'm utterly serious. I am completely and totally in love with you."

"I – I...Me too. I mean, with you."

The space between their lips closed as Germany pulled Italy into a searing kiss, his hands fisted in Feliciano's hair as the Italian pulled him even closer, their bodies pressed against each other. Italy moaned as his lips parted slightly, allowing Germany to caress his tongue with his own. He had been waiting far too long for this moment. They pulled away, Germany looking at Italy with utter adoration in his eyes, Italy looking – mischievous?

Italy smirked, his perfectly white teeth glimmering in the dim light. "So...does this mean I win?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Well, you gave up and admitted the whole thing was fake first...so I win, right?"

"What d'you mean? I thought, I mean, you were crying...?" Germany was confused.

Italy stuck his tongue out wickedly. "Fake crying. It's an art form. You'll learn someday, dear Ludwig."

It finally clicked into place. "You – YOU KNEW!!"

Italy giggled. "Yeah, I knew. Alfred accidentally let it slip. He just wanted us to win."

"I am going to kill everyone involved in this! First you, then that sleazy America."

Italy shrugged. "It wasn't really his fault. If I were you, I'd be inclined to blame England. There's no way America figured it out on his own."

"So...all the crying? The jealousy? It was all - "

"Completely and totally fake." Grinned Italy. "Well, of course, once you knew about me and France, there wasn't really any point trying to make you jealous anymore, was there? Since you knew it was all faked. So I had to try a different strategy. I pretended to be really upset about you and Canada in the hope that you'd feel guilty enough about hurting my feelings to crack and tell me the truth. Yay! I win!"

Germany clenched and unclenched fists. He had been fooled...by this...this idiot! He had been humiliated and made a mockery of by England, and even that moronic America!

"Feliciano....if I wasn't in love with you, your sorry ass would be kicked from here to next Tuesday. I hope you realise that."

Italy smiled warmly at his frustrated new boyfriend. "Aw, don't feel bad. You were beaten by the best!" he laughed, as he once again pulled Germany into his arms, kissing him lightly on the lips. "And for the record, the part about me being madly in love with you? All true."

Germany could not help but smile as he pulled his new lover into another kiss. "Who knew you could be so manipulative?"

"Games are fun!" giggled Italy. "It's all thanks to America!"

"Don't mention that bastard....he's probably upstairs right now, laughing his ass off at us with that prick England."

Italy laughed again. "England and America are in their bedroom all right, but I highly doubt what they're doing involves laughing...."

Germany made a disgusted face. "I thought with Kiku on my side I would definitely beat you. So France was in on it too?"

"Yep, I told him the truth straight away. He was all too eager to keep up the game."

"Yes. He was far too eager for my liking." Growled Germany. "Pervert couldn't keep his hands off you."

"Well now, only your hands get to touch me...oh, and Germany? There actually is one more thing I told the truth about..."

"And what was that?"

Italy pulled Germany close, and whispered in his ear, "I _would _like to lose my virginity in this beach house...."

-----------------------------------

"Oh-oh god, yes, ah!"

"Oh, fuck - "

"Harder, oh god, _please_ - _"_

"Oh my god!"

"What? Why are you stopping? Keep going, you bloody idiot!"

Alfred was not listening. "Look, how adorable!"

Arthur sat up in bed, unable to believe this. "Alfred F. Jones, you get back on this bed right now, or I swear to god I'll fucking kill you. You don't just _stop _in the middle of sex to - "

Alfred had walked over to the window excitedly. "But look, Arthur! Germany and Italy are kissing!"

"You – you interrupted this to watch that uptight bastard kissing the pasta-loving little moron, despite the fact that we all knew it was going to happen anyway?"

"Come on, Arthur. You made this happen. Don't you wanna see?"

Arthur rolled his eyes as high as they would go, but nevertheless got up and sauntered over to join his boyfriend (ugh, that word always sounded terrible in his head) at the window. Indeed, below their window, by the pool, Germany and Italy were kissing. Arthur hated to admit it, but...it was kind of sweet.

"You think they're cute. I know you too well." Alfred grinned, slipping an arm around Arthur's naked waist and pulling him in closer. "You're just too adorable."

"Shut up, you bastard. You're making me blush."

"Then the day has gone well, I think."

"Shut your trap and kiss me."

"OK. I'm willing to go with tha – mmph!"

After a good minute and a half of passionate kissing, Arthur pulled away.

Alfred gave him a wicked grin. "So...you feel like carrying on? I know I do."

Arthur merely laughed as he pulled his underwear and pants back on. "Carrying on? After that? Alfred, dear, you're not getting sex for a month."

And with that, the smirking nation strolled out of their room, leaving America with what could only be described as an expression of abject horror on his face.

---------------------------------

The next morning was an interesting one. There was a peace in the air that every single nation felt, but that none could accurately describe, nor explain. The tension of the last day had lifted completely, and it felt like all the world was somehow in harmony.

Every nation slept in. No one felt like breakfasting at eight, and they all ended up congregating around the large breakfast table at half past ten.

The scene was wonderful. Breakfast items were strewn everywhere, and nations were laughing together and eating as much as they could. Lithuania and Poland were feeding each other Cheerios. Austria had a very unsubtle hand around Hungary's waist. Prussia was talking animatedly to a slightly nervous-looking Canada, who was being watched over protectively by, unsurprisingly, France, whose arm was draped delicately over his shoulder. Most of the nations had seen this development coming, not least of all England, who was looking very tired but very happy, as he amicably chewed on a strawberry pop tart and filled his bowl with Lucky Charms. Russia and China were whispering conspiratorially, but as this was frankly the norm, no one was particularly concerned. Romano was blushing furiously as Spain tried to kiss him on the cheek, stammering something about "not in public...". Germany and Italy, both of whom had walked into breakfast ruffled and late, were not even eating, they were sitting on the couch in each other's arms, Germany stroking Italy's hair lovingly.

The only absentees were America and Japan, who had both gone through to the kitchen to get some toast.

Japan cleared his throat. "So, Feliciano and Ludwig, huh? It's sweet, isn't it?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. It's pretty adorable."

"And I hear you had something to do with it."

America reddened. "Nah. I kinda accidentally told Feliciano something about it, and he figured the whole thing out from there. I swear, most of it I didn't even understand! It's nice that they're so happy now, though. We've been waiting for those two to get their acts together since forever."

Japan smirked. "And they're not the only ones who needed to." He muttered.

"What was that?"

"Oh, nothing. And how are things with your love life, if you don't mind my asking?"

Alfred looked bemused. "But-I-I'm not - "

Japan grinned. "You did say that you were spoken for. You must have had somebody in mind. Things going well?"

Alfred looked down. "As a matter of fact, they haven't been. Everything's all right now, but...I didn't know what I had been doing wrong, as usual. He was just being really cold and distant, and I-I just didn't know how to make it better. I kept asking him what it was that I'd done wrong, but he wouldn't say. He can be so stubborn."

"Yes," agreed Japan with a smile, "He can be."

"And, I just didn't know what to say to make it right, I didn't think there was anything I could say. So I just told him I was madly in love with him. But I thought he already knew that. Turned out he just thought I was in it for the sex. He and I slept together, and he got the idea it didn't mean anything to me. I don't know how he can have thought that, because...argh! He's so frustrating."

Japan nodded in sympathy. "Arthur does tend to overanalyze things."

Alfred clapped a hand to his mouth. "Oh! But-how did you know?"

"Come _on, _Alfred. It couldn't have been more obvious even if you were wearing an "I heart Arthur Kirkland" sandwich board and ringing a bell."

"Oh no. I don't think he wants anyone to know!"

Japan laughed. "I'm fairly certain everyone who isn't about as dense as granite already knows. So what exactly happened yesterday, if you'll forgive my curiosity?"

"I found him sulking in the poolhouse. We argued for about half an hour, and he still wouldn't tell me what the matter was, and I tried to tell him I loved him and that I wanted to be with him for the rest of my life, and all that dumb romantic stuff, and he looked like I'd just told him his unicorn had just died. I didn't understand at all. Eventually I managed to get hold of the fact that he thought I only wanted him for sex, or something stupid along those lines. It took me about another fifteen minutes to convince him that I did love him. But I managed it. And now everything is awesome!"

Japan nodded. " I'm glad you told him how you really felt. He really cares about you."

"How do you know?"

Japan shrugged. "He told me."

The two placed their toast on plates and walked through to the dining room together, stopping for a brief second to admire the happy, relaxed scene before them, before Japan took his seat next to Prussia, distracting him from his conversation with Canada, and America sat down beside England, whose hand he unashamedly grasped, threading his fingers through England's.

-------------------------------

Most of the nations slept on the journey back. America was fast asleep the entire time, having not exactly slept well the past two nights, his hair occasionally being stroked by England when he thought no one else was looking. France had replaced Germany in their van, while Germany was with Italy. France was looking content as a sleepy Canada linked arms with him, and laid his head to rest on his shoulder.

The journey passed much quicker than the previous one for both parties, mainly due to the fact that Italy was too distracted by Germany to sing "one hundred bottles of beer", for which everyone was eternally grateful.

The nations said their goodbyes until the next world meeting, which was due to take place the next week. Most of the new couples were thankful for the time alone with their new lovers without (finally) the interference of any other countries.

England and America, arm in arm, were just leaving when a rather unexpected person accosted them.

"Hey! England!"

"Oh...hey, Germany. What is it?"

Germany looked as though he could not quite bring himself to say the words. "Um. Well, I know this was partly your idea, and I wanted to say...um, well, if it wasn't for you, maybe Feliciano wouldn't have...I mean....you know what I mean."

England nodded. "For the record, you and Feliciano would have ended up together without my assistance. But I know what you're trying to say. You don't have to actually say it."

"England....thank you. And congratulations on winning. You were right, my manipulative skills simply can't rival yours. But don't think this means we're friends."

England snorted. "Of course not. Now run along, you don't want to keep Feliciano waiting."

Germany did not need telling twice. He practically did run towards a confused Italy, who he had left standing by his car. They embraced in a passionate kiss before driving away happily.

America pouted. "He didn't thank me! I helped!"

England smirked. "Yes, you were so enamoured with the idea of beating him that you spilled the beans about his relationship to Italy."

"Yeah, but only because you told me...Hey! You...you...!"

England laughed. "What can I say?"

"You really can't stand to lose, can you?"

"Nope."

"You're such a bastard sometimes, Arthur." Scowled America.

"Yes, Alfred, but you love me anyway."

"...You got me."

Arthur looked thoughtful. "You know, I'm starting to think this whole beach house trip was rather a good idea. Same time next year?"

"Sounds good to me." Replied America as he and England clasped hands and walked off together. Maybe falling in love wasn't such a bad thing after all.

---------------------------

THE END.

Win says: Oops. This may have in fact been as much USxUK as GerxIta. Never mind. I can't resist manipulative!Arthur for any money. But it is complete! Yay!


End file.
